For Narnia, and for Aslan!
by PippinStrange
Summary: Two chapters taken from my book, I was King of Narnia, this is The Battle and The Aftermath revised and posted as a oneshot. Peter's POV, a detailed account of the horrors, hatered, suffering, fear, and fighting during the Battle. T 4 violence. R&R!


**Here is the revised, combined chapters of "The Battle" and "The Aftermath" to provide a better one-shot to describe the events of the battle in the Lion, Witch, and Wardrobe. This is chunks from my book, "I was King of Narnia", basically Peter's biography. **

**Please Read and REview!**

**Pippin Baggins**

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**Here's what some of my dedicated reviewers are saying about these chapters:**

**Reepicheepet:** C.S. Lewis is the only person I can think of that could improve it. (Exept Brian Davis, maybe)

**X-Talon-X: **If you're ever bored, you could edit it a little. ) It is really a marvelous depiction of the battle, however! You did a very good job with it, but with anyone's writing, there's always room for improvement.

**Almyra: **This was well done - you managed to make the battle scene feel fresh - it was very nice to see things through Peter's eyes. I really enjoyed the part where he prayed to Aslan before the battle.

**seronothenin:**WOW- I've been a lurker since chapter one, but I felt I finally had to stop being lazy and review for this chapter... I literally had tears in my eyes and chills down my spine. Wow. Amazing job. Beautifully handled. wow. lol I wish I could say something coherent but I'm pretty much speechless. So... WELL DONE:-D:-D**

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****THE BATTLE**

I rushed out the tent. "Aslan!" I shouted. Sleepy creatures emerged from tents, blinking in the horribly quiet gray dawn. They seemed to absorb my panicked feeling. I could see it in their eyes. _Please let it not be true…_

I reached the tent and whipped aside the curtain. It was empty.

"No!" I whispered.

A curious faun peeped in behind me, furry eyebrows raised. "Leave me," I said, staring at the empty tent. It was cold inside, the air lifeless. No one had been in here all night.

The approaching galloping sound told me Oreius had arrived. He and Edmund stood outside the tent, talking in inaudible tones. Edmund was giving the dryads message to him, he must be…devastated.

I hoped the dryad was right about the girls. They were gone, but they _said_ they were safe. But Aslan was dead. Surely that meant they were all alone! With no one to watch over them—I could only take a deep breath and put my trust in _something _that they were going to be safe. Perhaps it was just as well—what could I have done if they were here for battle? Father Christmas said they were not meant to fight in battle. Lucy shouldn't see something like that.

_God…I'm fighting in a battle today. I'm not ready._ My knees shook at the remembrance. I didn't want to fight today. _Aslan is counting on me. I don't want to be brave and chivalrous!_ Aslan didn't expect me to be. I didn't want to brandish my sword, I wanted to find Lucy and Susan. Aslan wanted his family kept safe too, could I deny him the help when he helped get Edmund back?

"Maybe she is wrong," Edmund cut into my thoughts. "Well, I mean, not that she wasn't trustworthy, but I don't know dryads very well."

"No…no…I'm afraid she's right," I walked slowly out, not meeting Oreius's inquisitive eyes. "He's gone."

"You'll have to lead us," Edmund said without hesitation.

I shook my head. I couldn't do it. _I'm almost sixteen. I'm not a soldier like Dad._

"Peter, there's an army out there ready to follow you!" Edmund said impatiently, his dark eyes boring into mine. I could barely meet his gaze.

"I can't!" I blurted.

"Aslan believed you could," Edmund said softly. "And so do I."

Since when did he trust me? He's never trusted me. Edmund has changed so much. I've been hoisted onto a pedestal I never wanted! I knew I would fail him.

"The Witches' army is nearing, sire," Oreius said gently, but firmly. "What are your orders?"

I leaned against the table and studied the map. It didn't matter what I wanted. I _promised _Aslan. Narnia was his family, and I was the new leader, whether I liked it or not. There's some who are born heroes. Then there are some who become heroes because they've died trying. I'm afraid before the sun has set I'll be in the second category.

"We'll line here," I pointed to the rock cliffs bordering a wide field that ran along the river. "We can fall back to the rocks in our defense. The griffins will go in first with the boulders they collected yesterday by order of Aslan."

"The reserves?" Oreius pointed to the map. "They could wait along this cliff. Should the attack fail, they can release the scarlet bird."

I glanced at Edmund quizzically. Sounded like an extinct display from the London Zoo.

"It turns into fire," Edmund explained quickly. How he knew this and I didn't, I've no idea.

"Edmund, you will lead the reserves," I said firmly, without a second thought. Suppose we never needed them. He wouldn't even have to fight, and my heart I think would last a few moments extra.

"I want to be with you," Edmund protested angrily, his eyes lighting up with the resistance he'd become so skilled at. "You can't leave me behind. I owe them this as much as you do."

"No." I said sternly. I wasn't going to argue with him. "That's all I have to say on the matter. My job, first and foremost, is to protect YOU. Promises to help fight come second."

Edmund huffed and folded his arms across his chest, staring intently at the map, his lips pursed as if biting back some sort of remark. His temper was controlled. I'd never really seen that before. It was…shocking.

"The centaurs will be in the lead," Oreius suggested. "The fauns upon the right flank. The Satyrs will follow."

"Yes," I said nervously, poking the left of the map. "All the swiftest animals, leopards, lions, horses—will go in front. The bulkier stronghold will bring up the rear—bears, boars, rhinoceroses, and anything else we have."

"Good plan," Edmund nodded enthusiastically. _He's still supporting me even though I told him no. He's…amazing. _

With every step planned, I felt nauseated and frightened. _Aslan—I can't really do this._

But Aslan wasn't here. Aslan's disappearance left a hollow hole inside of me. I was making the last stand for Narnia, but I knew there was no hope. Without Aslan the word hope would never exist.

"I'll be back," I muttered, staggering into the woods nearby. I walked a little further until I could only see the banners blowing in the stiff, dawn breeze.

"Peter?" called Edmund's voice, but I paid no attention. I needed to be alone.

I was probably going to die today. The horrible thought had only occurred to me a few times, but now it seemed more real than London itself ever did.

Aslan was the heartbeat of Narnia. Without him there is no victory. I was smart enough to know that, at least. But I couldn't say anything. I knew I would only despair the gentle creatures of Narnia.

I wished I could have said goodbye to Mum and Dad. I wished the girls were here with me and Edmund. I only wanted to tell them I would miss them, for ever how long I would be here.

Suddenly dropping to my knees, I coughed up bile and tried not to entirely throw up. If my stomach couldn't handle an adrenaline rush, could it handle the blood in battle?

"God?" I whispered, my stomach calming slowly. The growing sunshine turned the forest a fuzzy green colour.

"God. I don't know who I'm really talking to. God—Aslan, maybe? I know there is someone there looking out for me. I hope."

I leaned my back against a tree, and covered my face in my hands. "I know Someone is up there. Please protect the girls, where ever they are. I know I just have to trust You that they are alright."

I remembered Aslan's gentle eyes and caring, deep voice. "Aslan, I don't want to fail you. I'll do my best. Please protect Edmund—sometimes he is rash and too quick, but, I love him so much. I can't lose him again."

I looked up into the sunshine. I must sound so stupid. I'm supposed to be King of a country I'd never heard of before, and I was sitting next to a tree speaking to the sky.

I _wanted_ to cry, but I _never_ cried. Susan always said crying made you feel better, even if there was nothing wrong. What a girl! I don't know what she sees in it. I resolved, in the end, it would be very un-kingly to cry. _I can't lose it now, I've got to hold everything together. If I cry, everyone else will feel…_

"Sire," Oreius interrupted my thoughts. He trotted quietly from camp, looking so calm and full of a strength that I envied. He hardly spoke, but whenever he did, his presence almost gave me the same, calm reassurance that Aslan did.

His large, calloused hand touched my shoulder. Oreius followed my gaze into the sky and said firmly, "I know He hears you."

I slowly stretched to my feet. What should I say? Could I say anything at all?

"Thank-you," was all that came.

"Sire," Oreius turned to me and gazed at me with his hardened stare. "I serve you, first and foremost as my King. But I shall remain by your side even if duty does not call."

"You'll always be there for me?" I said, a little surprised. He was a general. Surely he had better things to do than help a kid like me. He doesn't have to feel obligated to serve me just because Aslan chose me and my family to fulfill a prophecy.

He only nodded in reply, falling mute once again. We stood there a moment, listening to the birds awaking. A long, hollow horn call erupted from camp.

"The Witch approaches," Oreius said. "The army is moving into position. I took the liberty of giving your orders."

"Let's go." I said, taking a shuddering breath, and began taking slow steps alongside the centaur.

The camp was a roar of activity. The army began a long line, marching into their places nearby. I found Edmund, already armored and waiting for me, his face set with determination. I nodded grimly to him and proceeded to put on my armor.

With every click of a buckle and every clang of the pieces of shining metal, I found myself growing more determined and resolute. So what if I died today? I would be protecting the people I love and defending a country who wanted me. What was I really afraid of: pain? No, it passes. The Witch? I don't really know, I've seen her only once.

Going on without Aslan? Yes. He supplied the strength I needed, and now the source was gone. Could I really be feeling bravery?

I suppose that feeling brave doesn't mean I cannot be scared. Bravery, in the end, is taking the courage to face something you ARE afraid of. And suddenly it was staring me in the face…I was afraid of the unknown. I always felt like I was in control, but now I had none. That is what truly scared me.

I never felt this feeling before. I always put a brave face on things and tried to make things better, but it never felt like this. I felt brave—but bravery wasn't what I thought. It felt like the first time I ever heard the name of Aslan. That feeling that is very indescribable.

I felt tense. My hands shook with apprehension, and yes, fear. I was still afraid, but it seemed more…bearable. I hugged my arms and took a deep breath, my insides threatening to spill out.

"Calm yourself," Edmund put a hand on my shoulder. "We're all nervous."

"I envy your confidence today! Nervous is too light a word to use," I shrugged. "Are you ready?"

"Very." Edmund moved towards the reserves, ready to lead them into the cliffs. He turned and began to walk away. What if a stray arrow hit him? This could be the last time I see him.

"Wait!" I said, panicked.

"What?" Edmund turned, looking at me quizzically.

"N-nothing," I stuttered. "Only…be safe, Ed, please."

"You know me," Edmund grinned, and turned and rushed to his place. The reserves turned and went into the hill, then followed the rocky path to its summit.

My unicorn was led towards me. Standing on a bucket, I hoisted myself onto her and nudged her forward.

Before I knew it, the army was trailing me as I led them through the rocks and approached the edge of the field. We were finally here. And all was quiet.

The sun edged over the mountain, blinding us momentarily. Then all was alight in a glorious, sunny morning.

Gryphon, the griffin, swooped to the rock next to me. "Gryphon," I said, "Fly ahead a bit and see how large the Witches' army is, and how close she is."

Gryphon bowed to the stone and launched himself forward, gliding across the sky, swooping low to the opposite end of the field. He careened to the left and swept across the sky. I watched him as he flew overhead and spun, then lowered himself to the ground beside me once again.

"They come, You Highness," he said, rather breathlessly. "In numbers and weapons far greater than our own."

Blast it! The Witch isn't easy on first-timers, is she?

"Numbers do not win a battle," Oreius said, firmly and almost spitefully.

"No," I agreed, "But I bet they help." They both glanced at me, wondering if my irony was supposed to be funny. Truthfully, I wasn't sure either.

I twisted around and caught a glimpse of Edmund's face. It was grim and white. He nodded, support etched in every line.

There was a ghostly sound of a horn. The approaching sound of Her army rumbled in the distance. The edge of the field, on a slight embankment, was soon covered in small specks. The specks were her soldiers. Large creatures and creatures that looked pin-sized gathered along the edge, like an added ruffle to a large blanket. I could hear the growls and hoots of those hellish creatures. There was so many of them!

The line broke, and her army began making its way across the field.

I drew my sword and pointed it forward, the signal for the griffins to move in. I remembered the air raids from back in England. It would be perfect—if it could destroy London, it could destroy the Witch, couldn't it?

The griffins flew overhead, cawing in shrieks like eagles on wing. They threw the boulders to the approaching army. Even from where I stood, I could see it did little damage.

It was time to move in.

"Are you with me?" I asked Oreius, my nerves calming so fast I thought it was because I was only waking from a nightmare.

"To the death," he replied, his gaze never faltering.

I had to do this. And I had to do it _now_.

"For Narnia!" I shouted, raising my sword above my head. "And for Aslan!"

The eruption of an echoing cry was released, and my unicorn reared in its readiness. I spurred it forward.

The wind rushed passed me, making it hard to concentrate. The thousands of hooves pounding into the ground thundered along behind me. I put the visor to my helmet down, barely being able to see past what was straight ahead. Oreius drew his swords.

Barely making out the sounds and senses around, the air went mute and I could only hear the pounding of my own heartbeat.

With a horrible crash and dazzling horrendous explosion of sound and blood, my senses felt sharp and raw, my mind unable to comprehend anything but movement and killing.

I slashed blindly this way and that, my insides shuddering at the sounds of my sword coming in contact with another's body and heads being whipped off by my blade. I spun my unicorn around and stabbed inwards to a mob of Cyclops that were busily swarming into a pair of satyrs. My unicorn leaped ahead, crushing a fallen dwarf under her hooves. I cried aloud, not even knowing what I was saying—or if I was only shouting with the acceleration of emotion and physical exhaustion as the attack was slowly failing.

A burst of light nearly blinded me. I strained to see through my helmet. At last, I could bear the blasted thing no longer. I pulled the visor up and observed the flash of orange overhead. The scarlet bird foamed over, wings widespread in flame. The flame carved a flaming wall between us and enemy.

With a loud cry, some began to cheer. A wash of blue light and the sound of cracking stone deafened our ears as the Witch herself approached, having used her wand to crack the wall of fire.

"Fall back!" I shouted, my unicorn diving back. "Fall back to the rocks!" I waited until I was sure everyone had heard my signal. Bringing in the rear, I galloped madly after my troops. The ground sped underneath me as the unicorn ran blindly across the plain. The cliffs drew nearer. Edmund signaled the reserves to come in. Oreius was already in the cliffs, galloping like the speed of light. They were closer. How long had we been fighting? I lost track. An hour? Two minutes?

I wanted to get back in the rocks—they were protected, we'd have the advantage. My mind was sick with the thoughts whirling in lazy circles. I was a murderer. I was a warrior. I didn't feel good about it, the fear was squelched, but I wished it were over.

_Just a little farther. Then shelter. We'll regroup. Just a little…bit…farther…_

We reached the first cliff. The unicorn leapt into the outcropping, her sides heaving with exhaustion. Sweat ran from her bulging muscles in a fine mist behind us. She was losing her strength—so was I.

Time began to slow. In only the space of a second, I saw an arrow headed from the cliff top. It pierced the shoulder of my unicorn. The Unicorn stumbled for a second and lurched forward, her head crushed under her own body as she was thrown to the ground with the intense piercing of a poisoned arrow.

I fell forward and was launched over the neck of the unicorn and thrown the ground. The impact of me hitting the ground jarred my body.

Time sped again. My breath came in haggard breaths. _I have to get up._ I stumbled to my knees, blinking stupidly in the light, which seemed more intense than before. _My helmet's gone! No wonder! _My head pounded, my body throbbed. I shook my head, trying to gather my senses. It knocked the wind out me, I felt like I'd forgotten how to breath. My legs wouldn't work. _Stand. Fight. Sword. Get up, you idiot!_

I jumped to my feet, each muscle protesting. Oreius appeared before me, at a gallop so fast I only barely had time to yell, "STOP!" just as he passed me by, a rhinoceros close behind him. The wind lashed my side as Oreius killed the leading Minotaur and leapt towards the approaching Witch. The rhinoceros collapsed to the ground in a sudden heap. Oreius jumped over the Witch, aiming a death blow that would have beheaded her. She ducked and threw her arm forward. Suddenly, Oreius was frozen, in a half rear with his sword poised over his head, only a statue of stone.

"No!" I shouted, stumbling back a step. A Minotaur twice my size jumped into me, his weapon swinging. It caught the armor in my side before I could jumped. I gaped with its impact and twisted, driving my sword into his flesh. The Minotaur fell with a groan. I ran back towards the rocks, killing whatever beast lay in front without hardly a thought. Trying to catch my breath, each one racked my body. I desperately looked around. Where was Edmund?

Edmund was near the rock. He saw me. I could see him.

"Edmund!" I shouted. "There's too many!" a Cyclops made a grab for my head with his claws. I cleanly swept his arm away from his shoulder. "Get the girls!" I cried, stabbing his heart as he lay helpless. "And get them home!"

I turned, begging inside that he, for once, would listen to me. I was caught in the arm by something large. A Minotaur plunged his weapon at me again and again as I struggled under his weight to overcome his attack.

Suddenly, something made me turn. Edmund was facing the Witch. _What are you doing? You have to get out of here!_

The Witch knocked the sword from his hand. I tried to run up the hill and stumbled.

_No! Stop! God, save him…_

She plunged her sword into his belly. Edmund clutched himself with a gasp.

"Edmund!" I screamed, but my throat was so hoarse no sound came out. With a last yell, I killed the Minotaur and ran blindly uphill, clumsily swinging my sword this way and that. The Witch leapt around, an evil smile spread across her white features.

She killed Edmund. _I will kill you! I WILL KILL YOU._ _My brother is dead! _My heart was beating so hard that it hurt, pulsing against my ribs as if it wished to give out on me right then. Pictures of my mother and father flashed in my head—how could I tell them? Susan and Lucy, too! There couldn't be just three of us!

I yelled incoherently and swung my sword at the bloody Witch. She was smiling. It made me sick. She kept smiling and smiling. I wanted to kill her. I wanted to watch my blade give her the same fate as Edmund. She couldn't live now. Not after this.

Bent on revenge, hate filling me with a rage I never thought I could have. It fed an adrenaline strength into my arms, bringing my weapon into hers with harsh force.

She retaliated brutally, possessing an inhuman strength I didn't think such a weak, pale thing could have. She fought hard…ever smiling. It was sickening. _Murderer! Murderer! _I thought over and over.

The Witch swiped at me, the edge of her sword catching me across the forehead. I fell backwards, putting a hand to my forehead instinctively. I glanced at her, almost curiously. She was STILL SMILING. I'd do anything to wipe that twisted display of happiness off of her head. _I'd really do anything to wipe her head AWAY right now!_

I jumped at her, shouting nothing at all and grunting with the acceleration of heat and pain beating in my head. She blocked professionally, stepping out of the fight momentarily, regarding me like a butcher examines a cow before killing it.

I rushed her, flinging my blade clumsily, not really caring wear it landed, as long as it did some damage.

The witch knocked my blade aside, crossed her swords, slicing them over my neck. I cried aloud and bent my neck back, feeling the rush of air at the closeness of the scissor blades. I ducked under and aimed for her, pausing for a moment. She had stepped away again, appraising my looks. I was tired, yes. But I wasn't ready to back down.

The witch sensed it. Her gaze faltered for a second, I fought to keep the fire inside me and the heat in my face from exploding into pure suicide—driving towards her without careful consideration of HER next moves.

She slashed at me again, I blocked it—the move was rough, it knocked me off balance. She could have killed me then…but she didn't.

Instead, she froze. Pure fear whitened her features even more. She looked over my shoulder.

A roar resonated into the air.

I glanced behind me. _How could it be? He had abandoned us. It's a ghost. It can't be._

Aslan had _returned._

Hope like never before filtered into me, making me freeze completely in my complete and utter shock. Hope. I'd forgotten it. It was back.

Behind the Great Lion—radiating gold and sunshine all around him—there was Susan. And Lucy!

And still yet behind them, another army appeared. Ragged and few—but enough to win this. Each face was set in stone with determination. _My God…we're actually going to make it. I know it now! I can feel it! _

"Impossible!" cursed the Witch.

_Oh, I forgot about you. Perhaps I'll still kill you. The sight of Aslan makes me think of forgiveness…but while I still have my sword…_

The pause was broken. The Witch turned on me with strong vengeance, strength emitting from every harsh stroke. Preparing for her brutal attacks for my neck and head, I was unprepared for her to dive under, swipe at my leg and bring it out from under me. Me and my heavy armor crashed to the ground, unable to stand. My ankle seared in pain.

I tried to feebly block her next blow, but with a clang my sword was only knocked aside.

And again, she smiled. Her eyes looked yellow against her snowy face, her wicked lips as red as the blood she craved.

The Witches' blade pierced my armor and was driven into my arm.

I cried out and struggled, the skin ripping away and the feeling of dizziness evading my brain. My eyes blurred. _No! It wasn't supposed to end like this! I can't leave the girls alone, not without Edmund to take care of them in my stead. Blast it, you cursed witch. I swear…_

The Witch prepared to stab me in the heart, pulling back and poising for her strike in a snakelike manner.

_She's going to finish me off for good. _I wondered if it would hurt. Would I pass into the afterlife quickly? Would I suffer in darkness for a few moments, then be blessed by the golden light that Aslan brought with his timely arrival?

I gasped in pain and convulsed, waiting for the intense feeling of a blade in my heart. I suppose it would hurt a little. My heart beat thumped hard against my chest.

The sting never came. The Witch looked up, sudden shock appearing. A flash of gold swept overhead. Aslan leapt over me and knocked the Witch the ground. They rolled over the grass, the Witch finally pinned—her sword falling away from reach—with Aslan snarling deafeningly over her face. For a moment they stopped, regarding each other. _That's the end of Her. Aslan won't let her live. _He growled ferociously, lunging towards her.

I turned my face away. There was a horrid sound, and I dared to look. The Lion was stepping away from a shrunken body. The Witch coiled up into the blackish cloud shaped like a snake, then faded into complete non existence.

I reached over and clutched the handle, pulling the sword out of me and flung it away. My arm hanging at my side, I leapt to my feet in a sudden surge of adrenaline. The army, running to our aide, became a blur past me. Nausea and a chill crept over me when Aslan turned and faced me.

Aslan looked into my eyes, every feature giving nothing way, only assuring me with his presence. _I was wrong to want revenge, Aslan. I'm sorry. I should have waited…I should have trusted you. _

I didn't understand why _he_ was here. I didn't know why _I_ was here. But that's what faith is. I just have to trust him, he knew me better than I knew myself. The sounds of battle was fading, it was ending. I didn't think I could do it…but here I am.

I felt faint and leaned against the rock, never tearing my eyes from Aslan. We'd won. I was still alive… Aslan was here, in the flesh, in golden glory.

Aslan was really, truly alive. _It is finished._

Fear, bravery, any emotions I felt melted away in an indescribable feeling of something. Joy, perhaps. No…relief. Gratitude.

The battle was finally over.

Firm thoughts, in a cloak of Aslan's voice resonating through my mind, I heard the words of confirmation that I already knew, but longed to hear. _Son of Adam…it is finished!_

Aslan's voice was more rich and deep than I ever remembered…as he said…calmly, again, like a great conqueror of storms.

"It is finished."

As the last sounds of weapons clashing died away, Aslan approached me, his large paws making no sound as he picked his way over bodies lying here and there. He held out his paw, by way of shaking hands. I clasped his in mine and felt the soft, velvet pads on my palm and the hard claws barely pricking through.

"I can't believe it," I whispered. We released hands, but the tingling feeling stayed behind in my hand and made me shiver. I touched him—he really was alive. It was no ghost or vision.

Aslan looked upon me, a hint of a smile but looking graver than ever. "Well done, Son of Adam," he said deeply, his voice changed a bit but as rich as the glorious morning.

"It was all Edmund's doing, Aslan," I said, memories sharp in my mind, but gradually blurring into screams and swordplay. "I told Edmund to go home, but he wouldn't do it. He broke the Witches' wand—I see that now—I didn't realize, at first,"

I was rambling, but Aslan seemed to understand. My words rather tripped over another as I tried to explain the procedures. I was relieved to be interrupted by my sisters.

I'd never seen a sight so beautiful than my sisters running up to me, covered in smiles and leaping into my arms. I held them close and never, ever, wanted to let them out of my sight again.

"Where's Edmund?" Susan pulled back, another serious look crossing her face.

Realization struck me.

The Witch killed Edmund.

In the heat and anger of battle, in the amazement of Aslan's return, I had forgotten. I knew, this time, in all the worry or doubt—I really had failed. But it wasn't Mum, Dad, or Aslan. I failed Edmund.

"Edmund," I whispered hoarsely. I turned and ran blindly towards the place where the Witch had plunged her sword into him. I remembered him clutching his belly and closing his eyes. Then he opened them one last time, and met my horrified gaze. Then he crumpled to the ground and lay still.

I could see the bright red cloth over his mail before I could really see him. Movement to the left caught my attention. A crippled dwarf, rasping with sickening glee, struggled towards Edmund and raised an axe over his head, preparing to take care of what was left of him.

"No!" I cried.

"Edmund!" screamed Susan, fitting an arrow to the string so quickly it startled me when the dwarf fell dead with its shaft in his heart.

"Edmund," I cried, falling to my knees.

Edmund was alive.

Holding his hand gingerly over the wound with his left, his right hand grasped the grass, clutching it trying to focus on an outlet for the intense pain.

He couldn't see us, his eyes were blurred. Each haggard breath he managed to squeeze from his lungs racked his body and he gasped as Susan unlatched his helmet and pulled it away from his head. Lucy only knelt next to him and sobbed.

There was blood all over his side, and his face was so white I thought we were losing him. I silently begged the higher above for him just to hold on a moment longer. But I knew there was nothing we could do to save him.

"Quick, Lucy," Aslan said, almost sternly as if she had disregarded a command. Lucy glanced up, her eyes wide in astonishment. She clutched the bottle hanging from her belt and twisted off the top. I realized that it was the cordial that Father Christmas had given her! Surely Edmund could be saved now.

Lucy poured a tiny drop into his mouth and pulled back, shutting the bottle and leaning into his face expectantly.

Edmund stopped moving. The gasping breathing faded away. We were too late.

Without even really realizing it, I was crying. No—not crying—sobbing. I never cried, I wasn't the type. I'd kept myself from doing it through this emotional whirlwind of events, and I hadn't shed a tear.

This time there was a difference. I didn't—really—care.

I hid my face and sobbed harder than I ever thought possible.

Then Edmund coughed. And then he opened his eyes. And then he looked at me.

I tried to remember the last time I had hugged him—it all seemed long ago now. He was ten, I think…he had broken his toe. He was very sad and in pain. I hugged him.

He was alive!

I grabbed his shoulders and pulled into my arms, burying my face in his shoulder, sobbing my stupid head off. I enveloped him in a hug that seemed to make up for nearly years of never hugging my only brother. I couldn't believe he was actually alive, and laughing in my ear.

I jerked back and sobbed through a smile of bottomless happiness. "When are you going to learn to do as your told?"

Edmund smiled back at me, then he leaned in for another hug. This time, I wrapped my arms around Lucy and Susan in the mix. We could only sit there for a moment—once I remembered how to cry I had forgotten how to stop—and sobbed. But this time we were all together. And it didn't matter if I didn't look brave or mature, we had each other. Safe and sound and that was all that mattered!

"There are others in need of healing," Aslan smiled gently, bringing a beautiful ending to a wonderful moment.

"Hold on a second," Lucy said distractedly.

"Lucy," Aslan said, "Must more die for your brother?"

"I'm sorry," Lucy agreed quickly, taking up her cordial with a delightful smile on her face, then took off up the hill and leaned over nearby bodies, giving many a drop of cordial. Many people were saved that day because of Lucy.

"Well done, Son of Adam," Aslan bestowed the same, gentle reward onto Edmund.

"Thank-you," Edmund stuttered. "But, how did, I mean, we thought you were--"

"Can you stand, Edmund?" Aslan continued without blinking an eye.

"I don't know," Edmund struggled a second. I lifted him halfway and he kneeled in front of Aslan. "Not quite. I feel sore, but I think I'm fine."

"This is fine," Aslan said with a little touch of humor. "You cannot stand if you wish to be knighted."

"Knighted?" Edmund grinned like a boy at Christmas. "Like, Sir Peter—the whole Wolf-Bane…thing?"

"Rise," Aslan said with joy emitting from his great smile.

"Sir Edmund Wand-Crest. That is in honor for defending the army and sacrificing yourself to destroy Her wand."

"Thank-you," said Edmund, bowing. His face was enough for any one to see he was happy beyond all reason. With help on Susan's arm, he found he could stand. Aslan allowed us to wait with him a few moments, and within those moments, he could walk and pick up his sword and re-sheath it.

"What should I do now, Aslan?" I asked. The army was restless.

"What should you do?" Aslan repeated, looking hard into my face.

"We need to…clean up." The thought occurred to me quickly. "We should get these foul…things…off this beautiful Narnian hill."

"That is a good idea." Aslan nodded and lumbered off in the direction of the field. "I shall be restoring the Statues to their proper place among the living."

I began to give orders. "Send the second reserves towards the field, they shall pile the carcasses and burn them. Line the dead Narnians. We will give them proper burials."

And we worked on this all day.

We named the rocky cliff Battle Crest, a memorial to those who died. The mounds of fresh dirt and engravings made by the dwarves marked the places where they lay. The carcasses of the Witches' army were burned, then the ashes buried.

The survivors who begged for mercy were sent away, to return to their own lands. Aslan breathed onto them before they left, and forevermore they bore a mark on their wrist that meant they had agreed never to assault the Narnians again, and that they were under the mercy and protection of the King.

Around five 'o clock that evening, I dropped in a heap near our make-shift camp, and fell asleep with my back against a tree.

I awoke when it was dark, with Susan leaning over me.

"There," she said, pulling back.

"Drew a mustache on me while I slept?" I joked, groaning and sitting up.

"No, I bandaged your stupid head," Susan smiled. "Someone's got to take care of YOU, you know, while you take care of everyone else."

"Thank-you," I poked the bandage covering the right of my forehead where the Witch had knocked me with the point of her blade.

"Supper is being served," Susan said, patting my right arm.

"Ouch," I said.

"What?" Susan's eyebrows furrowed. She grasped my sleeve and pulled it up over the bloodied wound. "Awful," she exclaimed. "When were you going to find time to fix this?"

"I forgot about it," I protested. "I'm not hiding anything."

Susan wrapped my arm diligently.

"Now help me up," I said, holding my hand out to her.

"No." Susan crossed her arms over her chest. "Do it yourself."

Isn't that just like a girl? Stubborn. And annoying.

"Just help me up," I frowned. "Do it."

"No." Susan grinned wickedly. "I thought you weren't hiding anything."

"I'm not," I took a shuddering—yes, shuddering—breath and launched myself to my feet. Glaring at Susan, I limped away.

"Ha!" Susan said gleefully, catching up to me. "Go to bed. Your tired and you have a bruise and cut on your ankle the size of Big Ben."

I bowed sarcastically. "Fare thee well, good Queen Susan."

"Goodnight, fair brother," mocked Susan, curtseying.

"Where is Edmund?" I asked.

"He is already asleep in bed, where he is supposed to be. I've bandaged him up so tightly that he cannot breath."

"I'm…sure that is…effective?" I grinned.

"And Lucy is with Mr. Tumnus," Susan smiled. "He is playing a flute and singing her to sleep."

"Mr. Tumnus!" I exclaimed. "They rescued him from the Witch, then?"

"Aslan did," Susan smiled softly. "I'd never seen Lucy so ecstatic! You will meet with him tomorrow, won't you?"

"First thing in the morning," I said, pulling the curtain back on my tent. Edmund was snoring loudly.

"Goodnight, Su," I said.

"Goodnight, Pete," said Susan.

I hate that nickname! She knows I hate it!

"If I could run right now," I said threateningly.

"You can't," laughed Susan, more carefree and happy than I had ever seen her. And with that, she vanished into her own tent.

I went inside my tent and laid awake for a long while. I

couldn't shake the sounds of screaming and battle from my head.

Then I head the soft music from Mr. Tumnus next door. The soft, lilting sounds of his flute echoed the sounds of simpler times...I could almost see the dancing, the firelight, the peace. It seemed to cast a spell of sleep over me...and I slept deeply until the bugle rang into the sunny, warm morning.

* * *

**Well guys, whaddya think? I put more emotion, heat, hatred, and surreal feelings throughout, and also heightened the sword fight details. Also, I added in the description of the Witch approaching, which I carelessly left out the first time. Please try to read this while listening to "The Battle" from the soundtrack two or three times during the time spent. It really helped me in writing it. Please, READ AND REVIEW! **

**This, and way more details of Peter, can be found in "I was King of Narnia" on my page. Please, go read!**


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